The Second Archon War: Comoedia Glacialis 13 (Patreon)

Comoedia Glacialis 13: The Stage Shifts to Another Scene

Once more, Anatoly found himself on the Tsaritsa’s left. Infuriatingly, this time, the man to his own left was none other than Thoma, now gifted with a Harbinger’s coat and a pair of red horns like that of a devil. Beside them, Ivan the Sleeper and Yelizaveta the Witch. Before them was the Tsaritsa, now ensconced upon a throne of ice, her gnosis in her right hand, and her crown upon her head. Behind the throne were Kollei and Anastasia. Was she trying to torment Anatoly? 

“And now you are four,” the Tsaritsa mused, caressing her gnosis, which was mounted on a scepter of sparkling silver. “My Harbingers. Do you know why I have called you hence?” 

“Some fools have made the mistake of angering a god,” Yelizaveta drawled, looking up with a vulpine smile. She licked her lips. “And you wish us to…correct them.”

“The Red Gauntlet has dared to lay a hand on your beloved subjects,” Ivan said, putting a hand to his heart as if he were making an impassioned speech before an adoring crowd. “You wish for us to destroy them.”

“We but await your command, your Majesty,” Thoma said, bowing his head even lower. 

Anatoly sneered. Well. He could play his role too. “Someone has stolen that which is rightfully yours. You want it back.”

The Tsartisa smiled, her eyes glowing with an inner light that was far from natural. It was a cold, wintery thing, that of a predator that hungered for her next meal. “Indeed. But I do not simply wish the Red Gauntlet brutalized. While that is called for…this problem must be addressed at the root, and removed utterly. My Prince. You know what you must do.”

“I will bring you the head of Vasili Kuznetsov,” the Sleeper declared, rising to his feet. 

“I do not wish for his head. I want him alive,” the Tsaritsa said, her eyes flashing with malice. “What I will do to him for daring to attack my precious ward will make death seem a sweetness and a mercy.”

“As you command, so it shall be,” Ivan said, bowing his head and pressing his hand to his heart. Then he spun on his bootheel and strode forth, his coat swirling dramatically behind him. 

Next, the Tsaritsa turned to her Witch. “And as for you.  You will brew a poison that will destroy the hand that gripped the Red Gauntlet.”

“Saint Petersburg and Vladivostok have been terribly naughty,” the Witch giggled as she rose. “I’ll see to it that they’re given their oh-so-just desserts.” 

“They have labored long for the fruits of their labor. See that it goes down smoothly,” the Tsaritsa commanded. 

“Oh, of course, my queen. I always find a spoonful of sugar helps any medicine go down,” Yelizaveta agreed as she turned and walked away. “Bye for now, cuties. I’ll make sure to bring you something nice from my trip.”

Next came Thoma, who looked up. “My queen, I would repay the three lieutenants of the Red Gauntlet for their treachery. And for their attack upon myself, and the woman I love. Allow me to deal with them.”

“Ah, my Servant. Though you claim a humble station, you are truly reliable. Yes. Again, I do not want their heads. Bring them to me in chains. I would give them a reward for more terrible than simple death,” the Tsaritsa chuckled darkly. She extended her hand, and Thoma arose. 

Thoma kept his head bowed, fist pressed to his chest. “As you will, your Majesty. So it shall be done.”

Thoma glanced for a moment at Anatoly, who remained kneeling before the throne. Then he spun about with a click of his heels, and marched smartly from the room. 

Unbidden, Anatoly arose, drawing his cloak about him. “It would seem there is little left for me to do.”

“Ah, my Thief. Fear not. I have a task for you,” the Tsaritsa said, smiling and crossing her legs. “What do you know of the man who so timely came to the rescue of your sister?” 

Anatoly was taken aback by that. He paused, considering his response carefully. “Eidolon is one of the most powerful capes in the world.  He is the head of the American Protectorate, and has the full force of that institution behind him. His powers are vast, to the point that it is fair to say they are whatever he desires. It is known he can take on the powers of any parahuman on Earth Bet, or perhaps even beyond. And he is not limited to one: typically, he takes three, though I know that he can take more if the situation demands it. He is widely respected and feared, and for good reason. Before the arrival of the first Archon, he was considered humanity’s second strongest hero, after…after the false one.”

Anatoly was not fully aware of just what Scion was, but if the Tsaritsa opposed him, he couldn’t mean anything good for Anatoly’s future prospects. 

“An astute summation,” the Tsaritsa mused. She nodded. “I am sending you to this land of America, to carry out your purpose.”

Again, Anatoly had to ponder the Tsaritsa’s words carefully. “You wish for me to steal something? From Eidolon?”

“Not from him directly, perhaps,” the Tsaritsa said, reclining upon her throne. “The Americans have something. I have suspected since I met Fate’s Fool, but now I am certain: They have a dead god.” 

Anatoly’s pulse sped up, and he found himself swallowing reflexively. “A…dead God? You mean…?”

“Perhaps the body of this Jesus, but I think not. The Sustainer of Heavenly principles spoke of his mate that was taken from him. I believe the Americans have her corpse. The remains of a dead god are hazardous for mortals to have in their care: it can lead to only madness, death, and corruption. I cannot abide a people, even those not my own, to suffer such things,” the Tsaritsa stated. 

“So…I am to steal from the Protectorate itself…the body of Scion’s…lover?” Anatoly asked, his mind reeling. This was impossible. He had fallen from favor. He was being marginalized and given a fool’s errand so he could be disposed of. 

Slowly, the Tsaritsa got to her feet, then stepped over to Anatoly. She reached up, caressing his face under his domino mask. “Ah, my Thief. I do not cast aside my players so lightly, especially not one such as you. You can succeed here. But only when you fully embrace your Delusion, and accept that it is I who must be foremost in your heart. And no other.”

Gently, Anatoly took the Tsaritsa’s small hand in his, and kissed the icy tips of her fingers. “My heart does belong to you, my Lady.”

“Only a small part of it. When I have eclipsed all your other desires when you have fully accepted your Delusion…then you will become all you were meant to be, my Thief,” the Tsaritsa told him, then withdrew her hand, walking past her throne and heading for the rear exit. 

Kollei fell in behind her mother immediately, but Anastasia hesitated. She cast a look at Anatoly, who looked at her grimly. 

She huffed, then spun about and hurried after their mistress. 

She will be mine too. I deserve her affection. I was the one who cared for her. No one can steal her from me, Anatoly thought furiously to himself as he stalked from the room.

All that he wanted would be his. 

He just had to steal the most priceless treasure in the world first. 

“-and based on my observations, she seems to be quite happy.”

Eidolon looked up from his paperwork and frowned. He hated this part of the job the most, and it was why he’d dreaded being put in charge of the Protectorate: the paperwork. The meetings. The endless bureaucracy and rigamarole of a desk job instead of being in the field. He’d been able to delegate a significant portion of it to others, but he was still stuck in several hours of paperwork and meetings daily. 

Thankfully, he didn’t need to sleep, or he’d never get any work done whatsoever. 

 “And how is Flower Dragon being happy at all pertinent, Mr. Richter?” Eidolon said stonily at the weedy-looking nerd who was nervously adjusting his glasses in front of his desk while looking at a laptop screen. 

“Well, I mean…she is my daughter. I want her to be happy,” Thomas Richter said, shifting his weight back and forth between his legs and not meeting Eidolon’s gaze. 

“I see. And can you explain any of her functions? That is why we’re having this meeting. We want you to be able to replicate your work with her,” Eidolon said as frostily as he could manage. 

“No, that’s what’s so amazing!” Without being prompted, Richter stepped forward, putting his laptop that was covered in tacky stickers on Eidolon’s desk and spinning it around as he began to babble. “You see, she’s engaging in auto evolution, possibly catalyzed by Kusanali! My working theory is that much like the uplifted animals we’ve been seeing, Theresa was granted a vision, and that infusion of elemental energy led to her gaining full sapience as well as a physical form!” 

Eidolon was able to follow what was being said and shown him thanks to his Thinker powers, as various charts and images flashed across the screen as Richter continued to babble. A large part of his wasn’t listening and was instead infuriated. 

A computer program. A glorified version of Mrs. Pacman had been given a Vision before he was. They knew the Entities, the Shards, whatever they were calling them now, were capricious and chose people in crisis to grant them Visions. The Archons and their Visions worked differently. Doctor Mother had a complex working theory that was seemingly vindicated by the Tsaritsa’s words, as nonsense as it sounded on the surface.

You had to have the mind of an Archon. To share their outlook on the world. To have the same Vision of the future. Only then would you be granted the immense power of a Vision. Power that could uplift animals into sentient beings, as increasingly likely rumors whispered. Power that could give a few lines of a code its own body and turn her into one being on the same level as Eidolon himself, if their suspicions were true. 

On the one hand, it was hopeful that the world had more defenders who had a prayer against Scion. On the other, how could Eidolon possibly gain enough strength to become the champion that humanity needed, the savior who could rescue them from alien threats, if he had to share his outlook with these blasphemous idolaters? 

“Could you design another AI and get it to trigger?” Eidolon asked after Richter wound down. 

“I have other programs, but none as advanced as Theresa was,” Richter said wistfully. “She was my baby. And I…well, maybe. It would take a lot of work.”

“Have you met Dr. Honey Meliton? She’s been attending classes at the House of Wisdom on Elemental Energy. I’ll put you in touch with her. Perhaps she could come up with a way to infuse an AI with enough of the stuff to create another Flower Dragon. Preferably one that’s loyal to the Protectorate,” Eidolon said, folding his hands on the desk in an effort to keep them from fidgeting. Sitting still this long was pure torture. 

“I’ve read some of her work on using Elemental Energy to infuse living creatures to cause mutations, but I’m afraid biology isn’t my subject matter, and it’s a bit over my head. My background is in IT, I just have an Associate Degree in Computer Science,” Richter admitted.  

“Well, she’s an Anemo Vision holder, so perhaps the two of you can work together on this project,” Eidolon said, scribbling down a quick note on a piece of paper. “She’s authorized to visit this facility.”

“Um, about that…when can I leave, exactly? I was told I wasn’t being charged for any crimes…” Richter asked hopefully. 

“You created several programs that stole money from multiple corporations and individuals to the tune of $2.1 billion dollars. Consider this house arrest, only you have an entire planet you’re confined too,” Eidolon said, putting some iron into his voice. “Consider yourself fortunate we deemed you not to be a flight risk, and that you’ve proven useful. Otherwise, it would have been the BIRDCAGE for you. Or worse, we’d have just turned you over to the IRS.”

That made Richter shudder. “Being trapped on another world is worth it to get away from Meanie Cheevy…is he really the top pick for Secretary of the Treasury?”

“I’m not here to talk politics, and that’s an issue for after November,” Eidolon said with a shrug. He was fairly certain Becky would tap the crusading head of the IRS for the Treasury, if for no other reason than she wanted to normalize having parahumans and Vision Holders in government. Plus, Meanie Cheevy really was just that good at his job. 

But who was gifted with divine powers and used them to chase tax evaders and embezzlers? 

The thought brought Eidolon up short. Divine Powers? Perhaps in a roundabout way, but Visions came from Archons, not the God he served. The stress must be getting to him. He needed to get out and do something. 

“That will be all, Mr. Richter,” Eidolon said, and Richter thankfully got it and left with a polite and brief farewell. Once he was gone, Eidolon hit the intercom button on his phone. “Linda, what else is on the schedule?”

“Just a few things for you to sign, want me to bring them in?” his secretary asked. 

“Just leave them on the table, I’ll handle it from a distance. I’m going out on patrol,” Eioldon told her. “Any crisis points on the map?”

“There’s a flood in North Dakota that’s causing a lot of damage, an armed robbery in Tulsa, and a high-speed chase in Las Crusas,” Linda said. “The armed robbery has definite parahuman activity.”

“I’ll take Tulsa. Let the local team know I’m on my way,” Eidolon said, stripping out of his suit and tie and putting on the more familiar and comforting armor and mask. Putting his cape on shouldn’t have felt like as much of a relief as it did, but he’d rather be girded for battle then stuffed in a monkey suit. 

Leaving earth Gimmel was a little harder than simply flying to Tulsa, but it wasn’t that much more difficult to grab a teleportation power that let him slip between dimensions. He arrived standing atop the One Williams Center building, a 52 story skyscraper that looked over the city. He’d always been surprised at just how hilly and forested Tulsa was, not at all like what you though of when you heard of Oklahoma. 

Still, an appreciation of geography wasn’t what he was here for. He tuned in to the local Protectorate bands, and immediately picked up on the situation. 

“-repeat, multiple suspects with parahuman powers. Looks like it’s Gridiron and his gang, at the Central Union building at 45th and-”

That was all Eidolon needed. His powers let him rip open another portal in space, and step through to a line of police cars surrounding a multi-story building with a bank on the ground floor. 

“Eidolon! Heads up!” 

In a gust of wind, an african-american woman in green spandex with squirrel suit sewn into her costume dropped out of the sky and raised her goggles. Eidolon recognized her as Pteromyini, the local Protectorate team head and an Anemo Vision Holder. 

“Thanks for the support. We could handle these guys, have before, but with Gridiron, Squibkick, and Fumblerooski all here, things could get ugly,” Pteromyini said, pointing to the building. “You need a briefing on them?”

Eidolon took a moment to tap into a Thinker power, then shook his head. “I got it. Brute with minor changer powers, Mover/Striker that’s more annoying than dangerous, and a Shaker/Master that can make things difficult. Where are they?”

“Inside, they got hostages,” Pteromyini said, pointing to the building. “Bank robbery gone bad. No casualties yet, but two of my teammates were close enough that they responded in minutes and got into a fight. You can see the damage there.”

The front of the building had been smashed in, and part of it had been sprayed with a thick greasy substance that Eidolon knew would make things almost impossible for anyone to move. That was the product of Fumblerooski, but it was Squibkick’s mover powers that let his fellow villains easily get away from the grease. All small timers. 

“I’ll give them one chance, then we go in,” Eidolon told Pteromyini. “Get your people ready.”

He floated up over the greasy field, then used a built in speaker in his suit to amplify his voice. “This is Eidolon, head of the Protectorate. You have one chance to release the hostages and surrender, otherwise, we will be forced to come in there after you. You have-”

“We give, we give!” 

Eidolon felt a flare of frustration and disappointment as Squibkick popped up, hands held high. “Holy fuck, I was ready to throw down with that flying rat and her goons, but fucking Eidolon? Jesus Christ, we haven’t even killed anybody! I surrender!”

“The fuck are you doing, Squib?!” Gridiron’s bellow came from within the bank. 

“Fuck you man, this is really Eidolon! I signed up to rob a bank and fight the locals, not the fucking head of the Protectorate!” Squib said, hands still held high. “Come on, man, you don’t need to waste me! Mind wipe me or whatever. Shit, I’ll play nice, I swear!” 

“Where the fuck are you going!?” Gridiron shouted again. 

“Fuck off, I’m not fighting Eidolon!” Fumblerooski declared, coming out with his hands up. “And you’re a fucking moron if you think you can! You saw what he did to the Nine, and we ain’t that good!” 

A moment later, Gridiron came out with two hostages in tow. He eyed Eidolon, then sighed and knelt, his skin shedding the rusty iron hue as he deactivated his changer powers. “Yeah, well, fuck me. We coulda made a break for it if you two hadn’t pussed out…”

“Yeah, no fuck that. Eidolon don’t take prisoners if you run,” Squib said as Eidolon and Pteromyini approached to take them into custody. 

“You boys are getting locked up for a good long time,” Pteromyini said with satisfaction. She grinned at Eidolon, flashing pearly white teeth in the mid morning light. “Thanks, boss man. Wish every scrap we got into was this easy!” 

“Don’t we all,” Eidolon lied. Damn it all. How was he supposed to prove he was worthy if no one would even face him? S class threats were rare enough, and these three goons barely registered as a B class on that scale. Still, he stayed to get them properly secured so they didn’t make a break for it as soon as he left, then gave a very brief statement to the press where he credited Pteromyini and her team for minimizing casualties and keeping a solid perimeter. 

After that, he went to help with the flood victims. It was, at least, work, though there was no chance of a real challenge or fight. But it was also the most serious threat to the people of the United States at the moment, and, well, at least he was doing something productive. It was a small consolation that he saved several dozen lives that no one else could have, even working with Alexandria and Hero to divert floodwaters that spared an entire township on the border with Minnesota. 

After he rescued a family from the roof of their flooded house, a little girl with her hair in cute little pigtails gave him a hug and told him, “Thank you, you’re the world’s strongest hero!” 

He almost wanted to scream. He wasn’t worthy. He wasn’t the strongest. 

And he had to find a way to fix that. He had to become Worthy. 

At the end of two days of titanic struggle, Eidolon finished a press conference with Alexandria and Hero, where they promised a new golden age for the American people. The lies tasted like ashes in his mouth, but the flavor was so familiar he said them with enough conviction no one would have ever known. 

He was just about to look for an actual challenge, when he received a call from Dr. Mother. 

“What is it?” he asked, not bothering with pleasantries. 

“I’ve received a message from Russia, one Anatoly Kamisarov. His sister was one of the ones you and Contessa rescued from the Red Gauntlet a few days ago.” 

“Yes, and? I assume he didn’t just send a thank you card,” Eidolon growled. 

“The pertinent information is he contacted Cauldron. Anatoly is an arms dealer, and he’s been the middleman for some of our special goods before,” Dr Mother said. “It seems he’s interested in brokering another deal. This could be dangerous: you know how Archons have reacted to those in the past.”

That was an understatement. The Raiden Shogun had made it clear that any vials, or people who had taken vials, on Japanese soil would be grounds for a declaration of war. Venti, who was normally quite peaceable, had wrecked every Gesselschaft facility and taken apart the entire organization largely because of those vials. Even Nahida through Farasha had made it clear that she detested them and wouldn’t allow vials in Iraq, though Cauldron hadn’t pushed their luck there on general principle. 

Even Eidolon had to admit that “Hopebringer” was a fitting title for the one who had turned aside the Simurgh. 

“I assume he’s just going to demand we not import any more of our products into his domaine. Am I to simply kowtow to him?” Eidolon growled. 

“Meet with him first. He’s traveling to Brockton Bay on business. Apparently he has contacts there. It will be a clandestine meeting, though Legend will be aware of Mr. Kamisarov’s presence. See that he doesn’t learn of yours.” 

“Right,” Eidolon said, and the line went dead. He frowned, then shook his head slightly to clear it. Various possibilities tumbled through his mind, but, perhaps…

 Kneel before me, and I shall grant you all the power and vengeance you desire.

No. He wasn’t going to kneel to a false god. He would remain faithful, on the path God had set before him. 

But if he had to make a deal with the devil…he’d done worse. 

The newly built Brockton Hyatt was a luxurious getaway located on the Boardwalk near the shore. The weather in late March was mild and warm, though Anatoly wasn’t interested much in that, aside from the fact that Elena would be wearing the new bikini he had purchased for her. 

He gestured with his little finger, smiling slightly as he did so. Blushing and tittering, Elena spun about for him, her pale skin a compliment to the cream colored bathing suit. 

“Do you like it?” she asked, fluttering her eye lashes at him. 

“Very much. Perhaps I should keep you in today and make you earn that and your new pearl necklace,” he told her. 

“Oh? Do you intend to give me one, then?” she asked, coming over and putting one hand on his chest, and the other on his groin. 

“I won’t be wasting my seed like that. You will bear my heir,” he told her, which made her blush prettily again. “Or perhaps instead of a necklace, you would prefer a ring to mark you mine, hmm?”

“I…do you mean it?” Elena asked breathily, now looking rather star stuck. 

“We can go and pick one out later,” he told her, kissing her forehead. It was time he properly claimed her as his own. There would be no more mistakes. 

“But, my father-”

“He will not tell me no,” Anatoly said, gripping her shoulders roughly. 

“Ah, no, of course not! I just…should I tell my parents?” she asked, now sounding frightened as he pulled her closer. 

“You may inform them. I will tell them the date, after the Tsaritsa and solidified her holdings,” he said, letting her go. “Now, I have business this afternoon. There are two fatuus who will be with you.”

“Kira and Agata? Yes, can I take them shopping?” Elena asked.

“As long as you return by dinner and do not stray too far. They have orders not to let any harm come to you,” Anatoly stated. They, at least, should be loyal to him. He’d selected two women to be Elena’s personal bodyguards—no more subordinates who would betray him in that manner. 

“And my budget?” Elena asked nervously. 

“The card has a $10,000 spending limit. If you need more than that, we can discuss it later,” Anatoly said with a shrug. While the Tsaritsa’s regime was hard up for cash at the moment, his personal credit was still excellent, and letting Elena have a little fun wouldn’t harm anything, and it would keep her content. 

 “Thank you!” Elena said, hugging Anatoly quickly. She clung to him for a moment, face buried in his chest. “You…you know I love you, don’t you?”

Nastya said the same thing. “Of course. You are mine, and I am yours,” Anatoly told her, stroking the top of her head. They kissed again, then she went out to the pool for some early morning sun before her shopping spree. Anatoly watched her go, enjoying the view. Yes, she was a pretty one. So long as she was also loyal, she would be a prize worth having.

For his part, Anatoly had business to conduct. He collected his own pair of fatui guards, then got in the car they’d procured for him and headed to Brockton’s industrial area. This was a less pleasant part of the city, with some of the rot that Anatoly knew lurked at the heart of America. Still, the trains were in good repair and the tracks well used, even if there was abundant graffiti and unsavory-looking types. Perhaps they should consider opening an American branch of the fatui. They’d certainly not lack for recruits. 

No, the Tsaritsa was here for Russia. The rest of the world would learn to tremble at that fact soon enough. 

The building Anatoly arrived at was a modern office near the train yard, with a fence and tough-looking security. He was carded and let through easily enough, and Anatoly appreciated working with professionals. He was met at the front by a cute young blonde in a short miniskirt and a tight blouse. 

“Good morning, Mr. Kamisarov,” the woman chirruped, smiling as he exited his car. “Mr. Anders is waiting for you.” 

“Thank you, Ms. Russel,” Anatoly said, nodding to the woman. “Take me to him.”

He met with the CEO of Medhall and leader of the Empire 88 gang in a plush conference room. Max Anders was far more American than German, warmly greeting his guest and pumping Anatoly’s hand, to Anatoly’s displeasure. He had no love of fascists, but the Tsaritsa wanted America destabilized. What better way to do that then to feed weapons and drugs to a supervillain and his gang? 

“You’ve met my wife, Lotte,” Anders said, gesturing to another buxom young blonde woman. 

“Yes, last year I believe. I suppose congratulations are in order,” Anatoly said, nodding to the woman’s swelling belly. She flushed and nodded. Interesting. Did she know that Anders was sleeping with the other woman as well? Such treachery and duplicity were to be expected of fascists, of course. But thanks to his Vision, Anatoly could easily sense the lust and shared passion coming off both women and the possessive air that Anders radiated. He needn't have worried. Elena was far more attractive and less of a bimbo than either of Ander’s pet supervillainesses. 

“So, what have you got for me today, Anatoly? I hear you have a new patron,” Anders said, taking a seat after Lotte and Ms. Russel had been dismissed. 

“A great many things. I still have plenty of old hardware, but I will also be coming into a great many of the Red Gauntlet’s weapons are supplies shortly,” Anatoly said with a wintery smile. 

Anders laughed, but there was a tenseness to it. “Yeah, we heard about what the Sleeper just did to Novgorod. Wiped out half the Red Gauntlet at one fell swoop.”

“The Prince. Her Serene Benevolence, the Tsaritsa, has given him a new name,” Anatoly corrected mildly. 

“Prince, Sleeper, either way, it was impressive.” Anders leaned forward. “So, what’s for sale?”

“We will want medical supplies in trade, of course,” Anatoly said, pulling out a folder and passing it over to Anders. “But I think we can reach an agreement.”

The negotiations lasted the whole day, but they were productive. Anders was blunt and to the point as most Americans were. They didn’t finish everything up by 5 pm, but Anatoly was confident they would in the next few days. He’d obtain some much-needed medical supplies, though it galled. There would come a day when Russia had no need to come to other nations to obtain what it needed, but that day was not today, and the Tsaritsa needed medicine for her troops and a growing base of subjects that they could not produce within her lands. 

After that, he dined with Elena at the Hyatt’s bar, then took her back to their rooms and rode her until she screamed with pleasure. The Tsaritsa would have need of new subjects, and Anatoly wanted an heir. If that Nazi Max Anders could pop out brats with his sows, there was no reason that Anatoly couldn’t do the same with his chosen bride. 

Once Elena was asleep, Anatoly stepped out of the room, then made his way back to the parking garage, where a different car took him to an entirely different hotel. There, he collected the roomkey that was waiting for him, and went up to the room he’d been told. It was empty, but he sat down in the chair, lighting a cigarette and waiting. The Tsaritsa might want not want him to smoke in her presence, but she was an ocean away. What she didn’t know wouldn’t hurt her. 

“Those things will kill you, you know. And they’re murder on your endurence in a fight. Put it out.”

Stubbing out the cigarette in the ashtray by his chair, Anatoly turn his head to find an acne-scarred man with three days of stubble, a receding hairline, and the lean body of an athlete leaning on the far wall. 

“Shouldn’t someone with your abilities be less health conscious? I doubt secondhand smoke could harm you,” Anatoly said. He’d not even noticed when Eidolon had entered the room. Had he teleported? Most likely. 

“You don’t get to my position by taking unnecessary chances,” Eidolon said, folding his arms over his chest. “So. What’s a ‘Harbinger’ doing in Brockton Bay?”

“You know perfectly well, why. Though I admit, the medical supplies are not just a smokescreen. We do need what Medhall can provide,” Anatoly said with a shrug. 

“Is Kaiser behaving himself? He’s been on notice,” Eidolon said wth a smug grin. So, he did know then. 

“He’s got his pretty new wife pregnant. Is she even 20 yet?” Anatoly asked in amusement. 

Eidolon shrugged. “She’s legal, even if she’s a Nazi bitch. And Kaiser’s been making the E88 play by the new rules. Which are fairly simple.”

“Oh? I had thought you Americans overly permissive with your ‘cops and robbers’ games,” Anatoly said in mild amusement. 

“Things change. The new rules are ‘fuck around and find out.’ You’re not here to fuck around, are you?” Eidolon demanded coldly.

Even with his new Vision, Anatoly still felt a thrill of fear go down his spine. Perhaps the Prince or the Witch could face Eidolon. Maybe even that bastard Thoma could with his new ‘Delusion.’ But Anatoly had only a Vision. 

But, as Eidolon said. Things changed. 

“I’m here to do business. Shall we?” Anatoly said, indicating the chair across from his. 

Grunting a vague affirmative, Eidolon stood and came over, sitting stiffly in his chair, arms still folded across his chest. 

“First, I must thank you for saving my beloved sister and fiance Elana, as well as Kollei, our esteemed princess,” Anatoly said. “Both on a personal, and political, note. Myself and Imperial Russia owe you our gratitude.”

“And that will buy you a small cup of comfort,” Eidolon snorted. “Get to the point.”

“Very well. I wish to purchase several of your vials. We’ve done business with Cauldron before, though I didn’t think they’d send you to meet me,” Anatoly said mildly. He’d been more than a little surprised that America's most powerful cape was a part of that venture. But then, perhaps he shouldn’t have been, with Alexandria at last seizing power for her masters openly. 

“An Archon that wants vials? That’s a novelty. Don’t they abhor us mere mortals meddling with what they claim is bits of a dead god?” Eidolon asked, raising an eyebrow. 

Anatoly paused. He had heard the part about the dead god from the Tsaritsa, but not that Archons were supposed to abhor them. Eidolon seemed to be aware that the Tsaritsa thought the Americans were meddling with powers that would lead to their destruction. How? Best to play what few cards Anatoly had close to his chest. 

“She knows what you have, and that you seek power. She is…familiar with the source. And she believes she can fashion these vials into something that could great great power.” Anatoly leaned forward slightly. “I hear you too wish for power, Mr. Young. Perhaps we can come to an…arrangement.”

“I already have parahuman powers,” Eidolon said with a shrug. “I don’t see what you could do for me.”

Anatoly took out a photo, and laid it on the table. “Do you know who this is?”

Eidolon examined it, then picked it up. “Baba Yaga, the Witch. I’ve heard of her. She’s another one in the Tsaritsa’s orbit.”

“Look again,” Anatoly urged. 

Eidolon studied the picture for a moment, then his eyes went wide. “She has two visions?! Since when-”

“One Vision. The other the Tsaritsa calls a Delusion. Crafted by her hands. Here, another,” Anatoly said, and gave a photo that made his lip curl.

“Oh, the Red Shield. Your bodyguard, no? I met him with your sister and fiance,” Eidolon said, then frowned. “Wait, since when did he have flame-based powers? Don’t tell me: another Delusion.”

“Exactly. The Tsaritsa could mass produce these. Unlike your vials, the success rate is 100%, and the resulting powers are entirely within her control. They can be given to parahumans and Vision Holders alike. Don’t tell me you’re not interested,” Anatoly said with a small smile. He could already sense Eidolon’s emotions, and the man was as ravenous as a wolf. 

“We will consider it. But we’ll require a great deal in exchange for those vials,” Eidolon warned. 

He had him. Anatoly smiled. He’d steal the world from the Americans. And steal back his place at the Tsaritsa’s side along with his sister. 

“I think we can come to a mutual understanding.”